


A Womans Choice

by TheBlackHorizon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Assassins, Because I can, F/M, Jon Arryn isn't dead, Kings Landing is in Dorne, Mance is lord of winterfell, Messing with the canon, Rober Baratheon is dead, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7169942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackHorizon/pseuds/TheBlackHorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mance Rayder sacked Winterfell   and made an alliance with the Queen to marry his daughter to the prince.<br/>Ygritte hates the thought of marrying a man she doesn't even know but tries to accept her fate, but what happens when another man appears on the stage, a man with a big secret?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sweat dripped from her brow and ran down her back like fingers tracing her flesh and her skin felt as hot and raw as the emotions bubbling under her calm and collected facade.  
She brushed the copper coloured silk curtain of her palanquin aside and expected to see an endless sea of boiling hot sand outside like she had for the last week. They had been travelling for a month when the green, soft meadows had turned into a desert so devastatingly hot that she was sure she had to burn up on the second day. Therefore she rarely left her palanquin, her northern skin was not accustomed to sunlight this fierce and her father had emphasized every day how very important it was that her creamy white skin was perfectly flawless when her future husband would lay eyes on her for the first time.  
She only knew the man her father would marry her off to from stories and most of them weren't good. The prince was a spoiled brat who didn't care for anything or anyone but himself, that's what most people said. Nevertheless, most girls her age could only dream of a marriage with royalty, even most of the young highborn ladys.  
Not that she wasn't highborn, her father was a great northern lord and she had hoped he would choose a northern husband for her, a warrior as fierce and pure as their country but instead he had sent her off as far south as south goes. He accompanied his daughter of course but he had only allowed her to take one of her maids and her personal guard with her to keep her company for the time being because he wanted her to have southern maids who would braid her hair and introduce her to the southern ways.  
There weren't enough words in this world to express the untamed rage that paced like a tiger in a cage deep inside her.  
A part of her knew that she would never be able to escape her situation, she was to be married and the whole country envied her for the choice her father made but all she wanted was tear off her silk dress and run as fast and as far as her legs would carry her. 

She leaned towards the curtain and peeked oustide and what she saw made her pull the curtain back fully.  
Their travelling party had been swallowed by a crowd of people, never had she seen that many people in one place. Thousands of voices melted together in a canon of voices, some speaking strange languages she couldn't understand but her ears greedily took in the sound of every word she could hear. Some of the people were dark skinned and wore silken tunics embroided with gorgeous patterns which were floating around their bodies like a whirlwind of colourfull perfume.  
Others were dressed in plain clothes, peasants, blacksmiths, builders. Clothed in almost nothing but rags and their hands and feet bound by chains stood a group of slaves guarded by their master and she felt taken aback by seeing those poor people standing there stripped of their all honor and free will.  
Their party rounded a corner and she saw a fat man praising the red and yellow spices in the big buckets next to him, she could make out the faint smell of the sea and fish mingling with the overwhelming smell of thousands and thousands of people crowding the streets of the city.  
The longer their journey through the city stretched on the clearer was the air and the streets started to empty more and more until the palanquin came to a halt and her fathers face appeared through the curtains. 

“We have arrived, my love.” 

She gathered up her skirts and steppped oustide the palanquin. The sunlight was so bright that she had to shield her eyes with her hand for a moment before she could look around.  
They were on a hill and the city sprawled out in front of them, a huge blurry, foreign mess of colours and sound that made her skin itch with excitement. 

“My dearest one,” her father put a gentle hand on her arm “Come and look at your new home.”

She turned around to look at the house right behind her. It had a balcony overlooking the city and the lightly couloured wood of the door and the windows was carved so that it looked like flourishes of caramel. The air inside was cool and he breathed a sigh of relief when she could finally feel her body cool down. White and black marvel so shiny she could almost see her own reflection in it was stretching at her feet and the furniture was of richly coloured silk and velvet. 

“Look how beautiful it is, milady.” her maid, Val, said and looked around in astonishment “Isn't it much better than the bleak north?”

Ygritte didn't manage more than a little smile “We shall be comfortable here.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You just look stunning milady.”

 

Ygritte stared at her reflection in the mirror. She wore a forest green dress which just barely covered her shoulders and flowed down her body, hugging her curves and bringing out the fiery red of her hair which was cascading down her back in soft curls. A golden necklace with the spear of her house resting on her chest perfectly matched the plain golden bracelets on her wrist.

Her back straight as an arrow she sat in front of the big mirror and watched one of her southern maids dip her index finger in some rose-scented oil and she almost shrinked back when the cool liquid touched the crook of her neck. It was true, she looked beautiful but her blue eyes were dull.

Today was the day. Today she would meet the prince, her future husband.

The man she would have to marry and give him an healthy heir and a few spares along the way.

The maids stopped her fussing when the door opened and her father strode into the room.

 

“Now look at that, what a beautiful daughter I have.” Mance came to a halt behind her, put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her in the mirror.

 

“Good morning father.” she said quietly.

 

“It truly is a good morning! Are you ready to meet the prince?”

 

Ygritte turned her head to meet her fathers eyes “As ready as I'll ever be.”

 

“You know how important this alliance is for the north,” Mance offered her his hand “You will make sure he likes you. Whatever it takes.”

 

“As you wish.” she took his hand and they went outside where the carriage was waiting.

 

When they arrived a the Red Keep Mance led the way to the princes solar. Once they had reached the door he turned to face his daughter and brushed back her hair to reveal more of her pale shoulders and neck “My darling daughter, you do have amenities. Use them.”

 

She immediately looked away “I shouldn't keep the prince and the Queen regent waiting.”

 

“Right. Off you go.” he nodded and turned on his heel.

 

She was left in front of the door to her future and her stomach knotted when she knocked on the door.

It was opened by a guard, a huge, scary man with a frowning look on his face. When he recognised her he let her pass and then she found herself standing in front of the Prince and his mother

She kept her shoulders straight but forced a polite smile on her lips and courtesied as she was taught.

 

“Your grace.”

 

When she raised her head again she found the Queen mustering her with interest but her son seemed to be utterly bored by the situation.

 

“Lady Ygritte, I suppose?” she asked, her voice as smooth as honey.

 

“Yes, your grace. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Ygritte answered and tried to supress her northern accent as best as she could.

 

“The pleasure is ours,” she seemed pleased but Ygritte could tell there was more going on behind the pleasant facade “I didn't know such fair flowers grow the north, don't you think Joffrey?”

 

Joffrey finally turned his head towards her and gave her swift once over before shrugging, his face showing nothing but indifference “She'll be sufficient.”

 

Ygritte lowered her gaze but deep inside her anger started to bloom like a fire in the night.

 

“Please excuse my darling son,” Cersei smiled mildly, her scarlet dress rustling when she shifted in her seat “Have you flowered yet, my dear?”

 

Ygrittes gaze shot up and her eyes widened slightly “Your grace?”

 

“Please mother, spare me that!” Joffrey exclaimed but a look from his mother silenced him.

 

“It is an important question my love, we have to know. After all she might be the one giving you an heir.” Cersei told him and then adressed Ygritte again “So. Have you?”

 

Not having expected such intimate questions at their first meeting caused her to hesitate for a brief moment “Yes, I have your grace.” she answered finally. _I'll be a good brooding mare._

 

The Queen smiled again and Ygritte felt as if she was a prize being assessed by a hunter. 

 

When she returned to the carriage later her father was already waiting for her. 

 

“And? Did they like you?”

 

“The Queen regent invited me to have some tea with her the day after tomorrow.” she answered with a hollow voice “And she said she'll send for you soon so all necessary arrangements can be made.”

 

“Oh my darling, you have made me proud!”

 

That night Ygritte curled up between her silken sheets and wept herself to sleep. 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“I cannot let you leave the house without protection,m'lady! You know that as good as I do.” 

“Stop calling me m'lady, Tormund!” she spat and tried to get past him through the door “All I want to do is to explore the city without being noticed for once!”

He mustered her from head to toe, noticing the plain brown dress and the linen cloak which she had borrowed from Val and shook is head “You can, but I'll have to come with you then m'la..Ygritte.”

“Why? I can very well fend for myself.” she answered in defence.

“This isn't Wintertown, there are far more dangerous people 'round here. Cut throats and thiefs who only wait for a pretty young woman like you who's alone. What do you think they'll do if they find out who you are?”

Ygritte didn't have an answer for that and pressed her lips together in anger.

“You can go outside whenever you wish as long as I'm with you.” he repeated kindly.

“Very well, I suppose there isn't much I can do about that.” she said in defeat.

“I could never forgive myself if I let anything happen to you, always keep that in mind.”He smiled at her “Besides, your father would have my head on a pike.”

“He would, but only because his alliance with the king would be ruined then.” 

“Don't be so bitter, Ygritte. Your father holds you very dear even if he may not know how to show it.” he smiled again opened the front door “And now let's go and see if this city is as bad as it smells.”

Ygritte smiled back at him and he followed her through the door. Tormund had been her perosnal guard for as long as she could remember and he never ceased to make her smile. Being a lords daughter may sound appealing to anyone who isn't one but the truth was Ygritte despised it. She would gladly trade all her silken gowns and golden jewellery for a day without the weight of her fathers expectaions resting on her shoulders. Her mothers death had robbed him of the opportunity of ever having a son and he never missed a chance to emphasize how much he wished to have a son. No matter how many gowns Ygritte owned, she would never have the respect of her father simply because she'd been born a woman.

They made their way down the hill, passing the houses of rich merchants and some smaller nobility and soon they were swallowed by the city. Ygritte bought peaches from a boy so young he couldn't have seen a seen a winter yet who sat by the city walls. She took such a big bite of the fruit the juices were running down her chin but for once there were no chaperones around who would scold her. Relishing the feeling of this little bit of freedom she took a deep breath and felt the weight of her life being lifted off her shoulders for at least a few hours.   
A thousand different smells filled her nose when they passed the huge market and every barker tried to shout louder than the one next to him. Tormund always walked next to her with his sword hidden beneath his cloak but always at the ready in case it was needed. Nonetheless it was a pleasant experience for him as well and seeing Ygritte smiling carefree and looking at everything new with eyes as big as saucers made his heart feel light.  
Leaving the market behind them they turned to the right, back towards the city walls where flowers and wine were sold. The red stone of the walls almost seemed to glow in the afternoon light and the sweet smell of the flowers filled the air when someone shouted something in a foreign language not far from them and the crowd surrounding them became suddenly unsettled.   
Tormund immediately prepared to shield Ygritte with his body from any harm that could possibly come to her and put a hand on the hilt of his sword. She moved to stand behind him but she felt almost excited about what would happen next.   
Before they even knew it the a man came running, elbowing his way through he crowd without any care of those around them. He seemed to be chased by someone, but it was only him running, no one else was to be seen. At least not until he was about to pass Ygritte and Tormund.  
From the corner of her eye Ygritte saw a shadow on the roof of the house across from them and before anyone knew it the shadow jumped off the roof like a cat and landed between Tormund and the other man. Tormund froze in suprise for a brief second and that little time span was enough for the man clad in midnight black to leap up and drive the blade attached to his wrist into the neck of the fleeing man in one fluent motion.   
People around them screamed and Ygritte gripped Tormunds arm with all her strength as she watched the assassin use the stupor of surprise the crowd was in to make his way past them to leap up and climb with ease onto the awning of the house behind him. He balanced on the scaldling which secured the awning to the wall and looked down at the crowd.   
Ygritte raised her gaze and for a brief moment their eyes met. She stared into his tiger-gem eyes and the wind played with his black locks when he looked right back at her. Time seemed to stop, the shouting around her faded to a dull backround noise and her heart beat so loud in her ears she was afraid someone might hear it.  
When he tore his gaze away from hers and fled onto the roof of the next house, elegant like a deer between trees her gaze was still fixed on the spot on the roof and Tormund had to repeatedly say her name until she responded. 

“We need to get back to the house!” he almost shouted and Ygritte looked at him in disbelief for a moment longer, still trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened, but she nodded eventually. 

“Yes, yes. Let's go.”

They hurried back to the house and Tormund rambled on constantly about how he should have never agreed to do this and how stupid it was of him but her thoughts seemed to be stuck on black eyes staring down at her.


	4. Chapter 4

Ygritte stood by the doors of her balcony and stared into the night. The light breeze carressed her exposed skin and dried the tears on her cheeks.

Her father had sold her to a monster for a political alliance.

She would be stuck with a man who showed no sign of affection to her in any way for the rest of her life and she would have to raise his children and always be at his side. The mere thought of it made her stomach clench and she wanted to scream and shout at the unfairness of it all. A golden cage, that was her fate and there wasn't a single thing she could do about it.

Cersei had been nice to her during tea this afternoon but no matter how nice the Queen regent would be, Ygritte knew what hid behind the facade. She wasn't a stupid girl in a silk dress who would say 'Yes your grace' to everything, she knew better than that. Life had taught her some things especially when it came to parents. Growing up with the constant disapproval of her father had taught her what faked niceties looked like.

She snorted.

Her father. Nothing more than a man with a castle who lusted for power. Was he really stupid enough to think the Queen would let her son marry the daughter of a wildling who had sacked a castle? Perhaps he was but Ygritte knew that she was the key to the north now that the Starks were extinguished. She was well aware that she was just a pawn in this game and whoever had her had the north.

A rustle in the tree next to the balcony tore her out of her musings and she took a tentative step outside. She carefully looked around the corner and jumped in suprise when she saw a man sitting on the broad railing of the balcony, his face hidden by the shadow his hood cast over his face.

 

“Good evening.” his voice was deep and smooth like black velvet.

 

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice shaking “What do you want?”

 

He got up and took a step towards her which caused her to shuffle backwards towards the door and when he saw the scared look on her face he stopped dead in his tracks.

 

“I did not come to harm you.” he said and threw back his hood to reveal his face “I merely wished to see you again.”

 

Ygritte froze. There he stood, the man who had killed another man right before her eyes merely a day ago. A soft smile played around his lips and his tiger-gem eyes lingered on her face and she couldn't take her eyes off him, couldn't move or do anything.

 

“I could call my guard.” she managed to say at last.

 

“But you haven't.” he retorted calmy and took another step forwards so he stood in the pool of light the lantern hung above them cast on the balcony. He was clad in linen and leather as black as his hair and his tanned skin told of days spent outside.

 

“Why did you do it?”

 

“Pardon me?” he cocked his head.

 

“Why did you kill that man?” Ygritte added hastily. _What in seven hells am I doing?_ There was an assassin on her balcony, she should scream on top of her lungs or call for Tormund or lock herself in her room but she did not. Instead she tried to fight the warmth pooling in between her legs and how drawn she felt to him by his mere presence.

 

“He burned down an orphanage in Flea Bottom.” his voice was dark “And tried to get away with it.”

 

His plain honesty had caught her off guard “You...you could have lied.” she stuttered “You coulv've told me anything you wanted but...”

 

“But I didn't,” his voice was low “I am many things but a liar I am not.”

 

She opened her mouth and felt a tingle spread throghout her whole body.

 

“So you can be sure that I'm not lying if I tell you I have never seen a woman as fierce and beautiful as you are.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” her voice was constricted.

 

“Because it is true.” he said and turned around swiftly and then sprung onto the railing.

 

“Wait!” she called “Who are you?”

 

He turned around to face her “I am the watcher on the wall.” and with that he disappeared into the night.

 

Ygritte hurried to the railing and bent over it to look down but he was already gone like a shadow.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

The sound of clashing steel filled the air. It was hot, even hotter than in the rest of the city and the unyielding screech of raw, hot material being formed created an athmosphere of strange urgency.  
Ygritte stood by Joffreys side in one of the many smithies lining the street of steel and watched the smith's hammer collide with the glowing red breastplate on the anvil as they waited for a new piece of armor for the prince.  
The owner of the shop emerged from a door at the far side of the room, proudly carrying a helmet in the form of a stags head in his hands.

“Finally.” the prince uttered as the man came to halt before him and presented the helmet to him. 

“I hope everything is to your liking your grace?”

Joffrey mustered the helmet which was truly a piece of art and shone like a golden flame in the reddish light of the smithy “I am, I have to admit you truly have done well.”

He it a little to inspect it more closely “It shall serve me well in battle. A warrior is only as strong as his armor, mylady.” he added and glanced sideways at Ygritte. 

She watched him for a moment and had to keep herself from snorting “I thought a warrior is only as strong as his will.”

Joffrey stopped his admirations and turned to face her “And what makes you think you, a woman, knows more about fighting then me? Who would dare to attack a proud stag?”

“It only takes on well placed arrow to take down the stag.” Ygritte straightened her shoulders, the golden arrow proudly resting against her chest.

His face contorted and he handed the helmet back to the smith “Be careful with your words. I am your king and you will treat me as such.” he hissed trough his teeth and his guard, the man most called The Hound stood behind him menacingly.  
“Enough of this for today.”

He turned around sharply without sparing her another look and she followed him back onto the street. They walked down the street of steel and people would stop and bow for their future king but Ygritte knew what they whispered behind his back. She let her gaze wander, the houses lining the streets were low and simple in built and blackened by the smoke from hundreds of forges.  
Afterwards she didn't know why the corner shop to her right had caught her eye but now that she saw the blacksmith looking right back at her she couldn't take her eyes off anymore.  
The black tunic clung to his body and the red gleam from the fire made his locks glow like black coals. Ygritted heart sung at the longing look he gave her, the sword on his anvil abandoned and his focus solely on her. Her foot caught on a loose cobble on the street and she stumbled, the king's guard caught her fall roughly and she mourned the moment from the second it had ended. 

Jon followed the party with his eyes until the crowd in the street had swallowed them again. Cursing under his breath he ralised that the sword he'd been working on had cooled down again. He put it on the forge once again and watched the flames lick the steel as he buried it in the red heat coals.  
Red like her hair and glowing hot like his heart when he thought about her. 

“What are you brooding about?”

His brothers voice interrupted his musings and he whirled around to see Robb standing by the entrance of the smithy with a jute bag slung over his shoulder and a grin on his face.

“Nothing.” he answered quickly. 

Robb cocked his head but didn't ask further questions “I'll just this take upstairs then.”

He continued his days work then and each and every tiny little spark erupting from the blade when he hit it with his hammer reminded him of the girl kissed by fire. 

That night he lay on his bed, the heat making it close to impossible to sleep and he gazed at the full moon casting its pale light through the window. Pale as her skin and as far away as he was from her.  
She had been with the prince this afternoon which equaled her being in another galaxy, light years away from him but as real and as close to his heart as the tunic clinging to his skin. 

On top of the hill Ygritte stood by her window and gazed at the same moon as him, waiting, wonderin, hoping.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tooth. Rotting. Fluff.

 

Tap Tap.

Ygrittes gaze shot up from the book she was reading.

Tap Tap. Again, against the doors to her balcony.

 

She rose from her chair and padded over to the door to peek outside. The light was dim but she could make out the familiar features which just wouldn't disappear from her mind.

 

“What are you doing here?” she whispered into the night.

 

“Come downstairs, I'll be waiting for you.”

 

“I can't just...it's the middle of the night!”

 

“I know,” he retorted in an almost amused voice “You won't regret it.”

 

Before she knew it he'd disappeared again and she stood by her door for a moment longer before making a decision.

 _What if he wants to kill me? Or use me to blackmail my father?_ A voice in the back of her head debated but she pushed it in the furthest corner of her mind while slipping into her linen tunic and trousers.

The house was pitch black and silent as a tomb, everyone was asleep apart from the guard by the front door, but she knew other ways out.

Her way led her towards the stables where a big window was through which she could easily slip outside unnoticed. The streets were faintly illuminated by torches attached to the houses and she rounded the corner to the street. Across the street was a statue which showed a fighter presenting his sword, the tip of the word pointing up into the sky. Next to the statue she made out a horse but its rider was hidden from view. She crossed the street hesitantly but when she came closer she saw the familiar face and approached him.

The horse was tall and black and she felt herself hesitang again, doubt making its way into her mind. What is somoeone saw them? What if someone found out?

 

He held out his hand and smiled softly as if he'd read her mind “No one will know.”

 

She hesitated for a heartbeat longer but then took his hand and let him pull her on the back of the black horse. A firm arm wound around her waist as the horse fell into an easy trot and she instantly felt herself relaxing into the touch.

The city was quiet and the night breeze was cool as the approached the lower gate.

 

“Where are you taking me?” she asked quietly and turned her head towards him.

“To a place where no one will spy on us.” he answered and dipped his head so their faces were merely inches apart.

The moment stretched between them, both lost in each others gaze as they passed the gate and were out in the desert. The sheer beauty of the dunes glowing in the moonlight like an endless ocean of blue sand left Ygritte awestruck. Never had she been out here during the night and she was still getting used to not being in the north anymore.

It was like they were floating, the horses hooves barely made a sound on the soft sand. After a little while she spotted a small group of palm trees and when they came closer she saw a pond was in the middle of it surrounded by grass.

The oasis stood out agianst the dead sand and once they'd reached it he slid off the horses back and held out his hand for her to hold on as she did the same.

Ygritte let her eyes drink in the scenery, the palm trees swaying in the wind, the soft grass beneath her feet and her heart light as a feather. He came to stand by her side with a linen bag in his hand

 

“Hungry?”

 

They sat down on the grass by the pond and he put the bag filled with fruits and a wineskin on the grass between them.

Ygritte chose a plum and looked at the fruit on her palm

 

“I would like to thank you but I don't even know your name.” she said finally and took a little bite of the plum.

 

“It's Jon.”

 

She turned the name in her mind, it suited him she decided and nibbled at the fruit again “I'm Ygritte.”

 

“A northern name.” he said with a soft smile.

 

“Can't deny that,” she returned the smile “But you don't sound very southern either.”

 

“Aye, can't get rid of that accent I reckon.”

 

Ygrittte shrugged “My father made me work on it for all my life.”

 

“Why that?”

 

“Because it's not like a lady should speak.”

 

Jon looked at her and she felt like he was staring right down into her soul, melting all the hate and anger away which paced inside her like a caged animal.

 

“The prince doesn't deserve you.” he whispered into the darkness.

 

The wind picked up slightly, the rustling of the leaves of the palm trees filled the silence between them when he brought his hand up to cup her cheek.

 

“You deserve to be free,” Jons thumb traced her cheekbone tenderly “and to be loved.”

Ygritte let out a shuddering breath which she hadn't realised she'd been holding and and grasped his hand when he slowly inched closer towards her.

Their faces were merely inches apart and she could feel the warmth of his skin against the cool night air. The wind picked up again, playing with their hair and mixing black with red when she felt an arm winding around her waist.

 

“We shouldn't...” she whispered.

 

“We should.” Jons breath ghosted over her lips and he leaned in slightly.

 

When their lips met it was in the most tender way and Ygritte was sure if she had died there and now she would have gone the happiest woman on earth. The kiss was sweet but his hand on the small of her back was firm and she felt safe and warm and loved.

Nothing she'd ever expierenced matched this and she didn't want it to end but eventually they broke apart in favour of air. They were still close, only their thin layers of clothes separating them and she could feel his hand wandering lower.

Jon played with the seam of her linen tunic and then slowly, almost hesitant he let his hand slip underneath it which caused her to gasp softly.

 

“Tell me to stop and I'll stop.” Jon said and looked at her with an almost sincere expression.

 

“I can't...I have to be...”

 

“Don't worry about that. You will still be unsullied for the prince.” he added calmly and Ygritte relaxed into his touch.

She shifted a little closer and he kissed her neck lovingly when he gently slid up the rouch linen fabric of her tunic. Jon lowered her onto her back and hovered above her, they looked at each other and she felt her heart beat steadily against her ribs and warmth pooling between her legs.

Jon littered her body with kisses and whispered sweet nonsense against her porcelain skin and she scrunched up her nose and giggled

 

“You know nothing Jon...” she never got to finish her phrase when he touched her sweetest spot.

 

The stars stretched above them and the world was forgotten to her when Ygrite twisted her hand in Jons hair and felt the sweet relief wash over her and carry her away into an endless ocean of stars.

When he wound his arm around her she lay boneslessly against his chest and deeply inhaled his scent.

 

“You are kissed by fire,” he whispered and pressed a chaste kiss on the crown of her head “You're lucky.”

 

"Aye, that I am." she sighed "Is that what you do with your girls here in the south?"

 

"It's what I do." he rasped into her ear.

 

"Yer' a grim lad." she retorted, making no effort to hide her northern drawl and he held her a bit tighter.

 

Time passed and the night stretched on but they did not move from their spot by the pond.

 

“I don't ever want to leave this place, Jon. Not ever.”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

The red sand stone beneath her palms was hot in the afternoon sun. Ygritte let her gaze drift across the steep coast of red rocks below the walls of the keep and the ocean stretching out in before them.

She was high above all this, the gardens of the red keep were leveled with the rest of the castle and the view was breathtaking. The hot breeze was salty and played with her hair.

Ygritte enjoyed having a quiet moment after a tedious afternoon spent with the queen talking about wedding gowns. Although she'd tried hard she hadn't been able to focus on Cerseis words as her mind kept returning to the night with Jon in the oasis and his tongue on her sweetest spot.

Somehow the afternoon had passed and the queen had left her to follow her own duties but Ygritte had decided to stay for a while longer and enjoy the gardens.

 

“Mylady?” a quiet voice from behind her interrupted her musings.

 

She whipped around to find a fat man clad in expensive silk standing behind her with a mild expression on his pasty features.

 

“I do apologise if I startled you,” he said with an apologetic look on his face “May I introduce myself, I am Lord Varys. Lady Ygritte, I suppose?”

 

“You suppose right. It is a pleasure to meet you.” she smiled politely and courtsied but something about this man made her feel strangely uncomfortable.

 

“The pleasure is mine. I am pleased to see you enjoy the gardens, it must be a nice change compared to the north.” he said, his voice as smooth as the yellow silk of his garb.

 

“It is although the heat is giving me a bit of trouble.” she admitted, trying to keep the conversation light.

 

“I can imagine,” he stood nex to her by the wall “some say this place is the most beautiful in the very ealy morning when the sun is on the rise and the birds sing their songs in the trees.”

 

Ygritte could almost feel the hidden meaning in his phrase “I would love to hear it.”

 

“Little birds are singing everywhere, mylady,” he added with a smile playing around his plush lips “But be careful whom they sing their songs for.”

 

She fixed him “There is nothing to sing about me, Lord Varys.”

 

“I am sure of that, mylady,” he raised his hand in apology “I am merely giving you an advice.”

 

“And what would that be?” she retorted impatiently.

 

“You should never forget the nightingale, mylady.” he said, leaning in slightly.

 

The smell of his perfume was so sweet it was almost sickening and her stomach clenched when she realised what he intenteded to say.

_What if someone found out?_

 

“If you'd like to excuse me, my duties in the small council are waiting for me.” he bowed and Ygritte curtsied again before he turned his back to her and walked towards the castle. 

 

Her gaze followed him and her heart beat hard against her ribs. Suddenly she was nervous, she felt as if she was being watched and her way led her straight down to the inner ward where her carriage was waiting for her. 

She hadn't seen or heard of Jon in three days. What if someone had seen them, what if they captured him what if...

Ygritte clenched her hands and tried to calm her thoughts. Perhaps Varys had only said all that to intimidate her on behalf of the queen or simply to scare her. Who knew if he hadn't simply lied to her?

_But what if..._

That night Val prepared a hot bath for her and she let the hot water swallow her body and drown out her thoughts. She let her thoughts drift back to the night at the oasis and let the memory of Jons loving eyes fill the black emptiness inside her heart.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the amazing feedback so far :) !

Ygritte spotted the figure on the railing of her balcony but she didn't have to look twice to know that it wasn't Jon. She shuffled backwards and was just about to look the doors to the balcony when the figure spoke

 

“I'm not here to harm you.”

 

He stepped down from the railing and Ygritte stopped dead in her tracks. The man came closer to her, clad in dark grey and he threw back his hood as he approached her. His hair shone like copper in the glow of the lantern but his light blue eyes told of sadness “I'm here on Jons behalf.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Come with me and you can see for yourself.” he answered darkly.

 

“Why should I trust you?” she asked with slight distrust.

 

“Why should I lie to you?”

 

“If he wanted to see me he would have come here himself.”

 

She could see the hard edge disappear from his gaze “Come with me and you will see. I 'll be waiting for you with a horse by the statue.”

 

Ygritte watched him leap onto a branch of the tree next to her balcony and she contemplated what to do now, after all this man was a complete stranger to her, but her heart told her to trust him. She went inside and put on the linen trousers and the plain shirt she kept hidden on the bottom of her drawer and made her way downstairs in the utter darkness of the house.

The stable doors creaked but she managed to slink outside unnoticed and spotted him behind the stautue across the street just like he'd said. Casting a last glance at the house she approached him and he gave her the reigns of one of the horses

 

“I hope you know how to ride.”

 

Ygritte nodded wordlessly and they mounted their horses and let them fall into a quick trot down the hill. For a moment she wondered where he was leading her but after a few corners she recognised the low, greys houses and the signs of the shops.

The street of steel.

He halted his horse in front of the shop on the corner and once she'd dismounted they led the horses into the small stable attached to the house.

 

“Come inside.”

 

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light inside and she blinked a few times but then looked around the sparsely decorated room when he spoke again “Jon is my brother.”

 

Ygrittes eyes went wide with realisation when she spotted the banner with the sigil of a direwolf hung on the wall “You are Starks...”

 

“And you are the daughter of the man who slaughtered our family.” Robb stated coldy.

She whirled around, her eyes wide with fear but Robb shook his head “Nothing will happen to you as long as you keep your mouth shut.”

 

“But why am I here?”

 

“We were out on a run for two blokes yesterday but...one of them had a crossbow,” his voice shook and he paused for a moment “I patched him up as good as I could but the fever came last night.”

 

Ygritte felt a lump form in her throat and she clasped a hand over her mouth as she listened to him.

 

“I was against it but he begged me to get you.”

 

“Where,” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat “Where is he?”

 

He jerked his head towards the door behind but when Ygritte was just about to open it Robb adressed her again

 

“I can't lose him,” his eyes shone with unshed tears “He's all I've got left.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Robb didn't have a memory without Jon. They'd grown up together, learned how to read, fight and ride a horse together. More often than not people would call Jon his shadow and that was true until a certain point. For Lady Catelyn, he'd been a shadow. His fathers bastard, nothing more than a mistake, a flaw on her family she'd never treated him with kindness. Theon Greyjoy had always tagged along and never missed a chance to insult him but at the end of the day Robb had always been there. His brother, his safe haven.

Until the day Winterfell had been sacked, that was.

Mance Rayders army had come from the north like a storm of fury and battleaxes, erasing everything in its way.

The memories were still livid, Winterfells mighty gate being smashed by giants, his fathers stern voice telling them to take their siblings down to the crypts and hide there with them until it was over.

The clashing of steel, the screaming of hundreds of people dying and the heavy, sickening smell of blood and rot filling the air.

They never reached the crypts.

His mother had been the first to die, she put herself between her children and the enemy, brave but stupid. The axe cut through her throat like a hot knife through butter. He would never forget the screams of Sansa and Arya and Brans shocked silence while Rickon cried when the soldiers surged towards them and everything became red.

They tried to run but they didn't get far.

In the end neither Robb nor Jon could tell how they had managed to survive. They'd watched how their siblings were slaughtered like lamb by a butcher and in that moment they'd clasped each others hands and ran. What became of Theon they never knew. Somehow they had made it oustide the castle and once they left the slaughterhouse that had once been their home they ran as fast and as far as they could.

Robb would never forget the image of his brother tripping over a branch on the ground and causing them both to crash into the murky ground of the forest. For a moment they both just lay there, panting heavily and staring into each others eyes. For the first time in what seemed like hours they'd stopped and the second they realised it the adrenalin started to fade and the events of the day crashed down on them like a wave, cold and hard and drowning them both. Time seemed to stop and they spent that night in the forest, clining to each other for warmth and comfort and cried until neither of them had any tears or strenght left. The following days had been a blur of hunger, grief and fury and neither of them slept at night.

By sheer and utter luck, a travelling merchant found them by the side of the Kingsroad four days after the siege, both sick and starving. He'd asked for their names and before Robb could open his mouth Jon had introduced them as Robb and Jon Snow.

The merchant let them tavel with him in exchange for work but neither of them minded. The work passed the days and kept them from thinking and no one would ask why they would always sleep close by each other. They travelled with the merchants party until Kings Landing where the heat made them almost dizzy. Finding a place to stay for two twelve year old bastards from the north hadn't been easy, but the merchant left them at a smithy whose owner was aging and without sons.

Robb knew all this had been sheer luck but still. The images would haunt both of them forever, nothing could make one forget the slaughter of the own family. More nights than not one of them would shake the other awake from dreams as real and vivid as their own hand and they would sit together in silence on the cool stone floor of their room. They held onto each other like a drowning man onto a rope and Robb knew he would lose himself without his brother. It hadn't been easy, working at a smithy after what had happened but they'd managed, slowly but steadily day in day out. Some nights Robb would think of Winterfell, of his father, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon. Warm light and laughter filling the halls, the Goodswood, Old Nan's stories. Looking at his borther then would make his heart sink even further. He remembered his reluctant smiles and loving heart but now Jon retreated further and further into himself, spending whole days in silence and the dark circles under his eyes would seemingly never go away.

They'd been like two pots of wildfire on a hearth, it was only a matter of time until one of them would crack and hell would break lose.

It had happened on a rainy night.

They'd been on their way home from an inn when a screech echoed through the almost empty streets. Without thinking they both surged towards were the sound had come from and found a bloke, obviusly very drunk trying to force himself onto a woman.

Robb and Jon exchanged a look and before he knew it Jon had drawn his dagger.

The man ended up a bloody mess on the cobbled street and the woman ran for her life but Jon stood over the dead mans body, breathing heavily and Robb stared into his eyes which seemed to glow in the dark of the night.

It seemed as if life had returned back into his brother in an upmost scary way.

 

The Grey Wind and The Watcher on the Wall, that's who they were now.

 

Robb wrung out the cloth and then gently dabbed it across his brothers sweat bathed brow which caused him to moan weakly.

“It's alright.” Robb cooed softly and checked the bandage covering Jons shoulder only to find it stained with red. He bit the inside of his cheek when he found the wound underneath it an angry red and weeping. The fever wouldn't go down as long as the wound looked like this, he knew, but he also knew there wasn't much he could do at this point. The bolt hat lodged deep and Robb was aware that it would be a wating game from now on.

He busied himself with binding the wound again and tried his best to black out his brothers pained gasps everytime he brushed the angry red flesh.

When he was finished and raised his gaze again he found Jon looking back at him with fever glazed eyes

 

“Please...”

 

“What is it?” Robb whispered.

 

“Get Ygritte.” he rasped.

 

“Who's Ygritte?”

 

“Mances daughter....”

 

Robbs eyes widened “Jon, no.”

 

“Please Robb.” Jons eyes fluttered close and he drew his brows together.

 

“I can't let the enemy in our house!”

 

“She's not our enemy.”

 

“But why?” Robb inquired although he could see his brothers strength was fading fast.

 

“Because I love her,” the statement left Robb dumbfounded for a moment “And if I...”

 

“You won't.” he interrupted him firmly “It is going to be alright.” he repeated although he didn't knew if it was to reassure Jon or himself.

 

“Please.”

 

Robb watched his brother drift into an uneasy sleep again and although his mind told him not to do it his heart urged him to run up the hill and get Ygritte.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always welcome, love ya bye -xx


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